


Just Like You, Sir

by GreyLiliy



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 03:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2008818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grif comes to a horrifying realization.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like You, Sir

**Author's Note:**

> Written in May 2014
> 
>  _Notes When Posted:_  
>  Feeling absurdly, inexplicably lousy, so I’m trying to cheer myself up with a scenario I discussed with my brother after we noticed something about Grif and his team. Its’ sort of short and silly, but whatever.

"I’m telling you, Bitters, there’s nothing better than invisible naps," Grif said, patting the top of his gun. He breathed out, and looked up at the sky with a wistful sigh. "I almost had that power, once. I was so close."

"Whatever, sir," Bitters said, staring off into the distance at some unknown point.

"That’s what I like about you, Bitters," Grif said. "Not afraid to speak your mind. Like a—"

"Maverick!" Matthews shouted, popping out of the bush. He held his gun up to his chest, and even though there was a helmet in the way—Grif knew the idiot was smiling. "That’s what you always call him, isn’t it, sir?"

"What are you doing here, Matthews?" Grif asked, gripping his weapon. "I thought I made it clear, you weren’t part of this team."

"Ah, sir, about that!" Matthews stood up straighter. "I um, forgive me but serving you is just so important to me—being here—I mean, and I…went above you."

"What."

"I had Kimball write me an override! My twenty page essay explaining the importance of teamwork and how my skills will balance out on the team won her over," Matthews said, hunching his shoulders in. "Sir."

"So let me get this straight," Grif said, clutching his rifle hard enough to dent the metal. "You, kiss-ass who wants to please me at every turn, went behind my back to override an order, in an action that would only result in me hating you more?"

"To be next to you, it’s worth it, sir," Matthews said.

Grif had the sudden urge to shoot Matthews. It welled up in his guts like a storm, and the inexplicable rage almost won out against his inherent laziness.

Bitters snorted, and yawned behind his helmet.

Matthews fidgeted for a moment, looking back and forth between Bitters and Grif. He sucked in a breath, and held his hands together with a desperate voice: “Working with you really is an inspiration. And even though you don’t want to now, I hope that one day you may even come to call me ‘son’.”

"Son? Are you kidding?" Grif said, mouth agape. "Matthews, I swear you’re just like Simm—"

Grif clamped his mouth shut, and turned around on his heel. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

Ten minutes later, Simmons was blessed with Grif’s company.

"I’ve become Sarge," Grif said, breathing heavily.

"What are you talking about now, Grif?" Simmons asked, shaking his head.

"It snuck up on me so quickly," Grif said, continuing on. "I know I used to be a Sargent officially in that one base, but I was still a rookie Sarge. Trying to live up to our Sarge and not quite making it. But now I’m him, and I don’t know how this happened, Simmons!"

"You’re still not making any sense," Simmons said. "Did you forget to raid the cafeteria for Oreos again?"

"I mean, I’ve already got a Grif and a Simmons—and an inexplicable urge to shoot one in the face with a shotgun!" Grif yelled. He dropped his rifle and shook Simmons’ shoulders. "All I need now are a flamboyant soldier to make naive double comments and a Spanish-speaking robot and the team’ll be complete! I don’t know if I’m ready for this!"

"Did you hit your head?" Simmons asked.

"No! But I wish I had! Everything’s too clear, now, Simmons," Grif said. "I’ve done it. I’ve grown up. I’ve become Sarge."

"You hit your head."

"Come on, Simmons," Grif said, grabbing his arm. "I need to get a shotgun from Kimball so I can shoot Matthews in the face from a safe distance—just like Sarge did to me."

"Grif!" Simmons shouted.

A few feet away, Matthews and Bitters began to bicker.

As it should be.


End file.
